The Skitter-Scatter of Little Feet
by Pir8grl
Summary: In which Artie discovers the joys of collecting bugs, which may or may not be small alien life forms of dubious intent.
1. Chapter 1

Clara was busy trying to prepare supper for the kids with half an ear cocked for the sound of George Maitland's car pulling in and the other for the sound for the TARDIS materializing. A second later, she wished rather fervently that she hadn't been listening quite so hard.

A mortally offended shriek followed by a series of muffled thumps shattered the afternoon quiet. "**Artie! **I'm gonna kill you!" Angie's voice echoed through the house.

"Hey, what's going on up there?" Clara yelled, as two sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Frowning, she turned off the gas so she could sort whatever catastrophe the kids had just perpetrated.

"You rotten little creep!" Angie screamed, charging into the kitchen in hot pursuit of her brother, who dodged around behind Clara, seeking refuge, nearly knocking a pot off the stove in the process.

Clara grabbed each child firmly by the shoulder, tying to keep them both restrained and, more to the point - separated. "What on earth is going on here?" she demanded.

"That miserable little sh-"

**"Angie!" **

"Cretin," Angie amended, "put a jar full of spiders in my sock drawer."

"Artie?" Clara prodded, rather sternly.

"My book says that they thrive in a dark, dry environment," he protested.

"Artie, how many times have I told you, I'm thrilled that you love science, really I am, but the bugs stay outside in the garden shed. Now, apologize to your sister."

"All right. I'm sorry."

"And you're doing her chores for two nights."

"Yes!" Angie exclaimed.

"Two nights!" Artie whined.

"Angie, hush," Clara warned. "Artie, one night for bringing bugs in the house when I told you not to, and one night for messing with your sister's belongings, which you have also been told not to do. And Angie - this is it. It's done. Do you understand me?"

Both kids nodded.

"All right then. Artie, every last bug outside in the garden shed, now. Angie, please go pick up whatever got in the way of your rampage down the stairs. I heard things fall."

"You just want us out of the way because your boyfriend's coming," Angie retorted.

"Where's he taking you?" Artie asked. "Can we come, too?"

"I don't know where we're going, so no, you can't come. Maybe some other time." _'After the Doctor and I have a __**really**__ long talk about safe environments,' _Clara added silently. "Now go. I need to finish cooking."

Angie sauntered back upstairs, smirking, and Artie scampered out into the backyard, leaving the door open.

Clara sighed and turned back to the stove, trying to remember what she'd been doing. She reached up to open a cabinet and get a jar of sauce. She could just about stretch high enough for her fingers to close around the first jar on the shelf. Lowering her arm, Clara suddenly realized that she was holding a jar full of …things. Things with antennae and way too many legs. She shrieked and stumbled backwards, flinging the jar away, heedless of the consequences.

Suddenly, she felt herself wrapped in a strong pair of arms that somehow managed to be quick enough to hold her steady on her feet, and catch the jar before it could shatter.


	2. Chapter 2

"All right?" the Doctor asked, one arm wrapped around Clara's waist to hold her steady on her feet.

She nodded. "Artie!" she yelled, disregarding the fact that she was more or less yelling right in the Doctor's ear.

The Doctor turned his attention to the contents of the jar in his hand. "Oh, lovely!"

"Not in my kitchen cupboard it isn't," Clara ground out. "Artie! In here right now!"

"Looks like a species of _Cicindela_."

"I don't care what it is, it doesn't belong in my…Artie!" Clara yelled again, even as the culprit slunk into the kitchen.

"Oops. I guess I forgot that one."

"Artie -" Clara began.

"Let me," the Doctor murmured. He crouched down to Artie's eye level. "Artie, are you very sure that this is the last one?"

The child nodded earnestly.

The Doctor leaned forward and laid a friendly hand on Artie's shoulder. "I know how fascinating these are, but they really don't belong in Clara's kitchen, do they?"

Artie shook his head.

"You're very lucky to have someone as special as Clara to look after you. I think you should apologize for upsetting her, don't you?"

Artie nodded, then stepped over to Clara. "I'm sorry," he said contritely.

"All right," Clara said, pulling him into a hug. "Just don't do it again, OK?" She bent down to kiss the top of his head. "Now take those out to the garden shed. All of them, this time."

"Oh, a garden shed! Perfect place for an insect laboratory!" the Doctor enthused. "Off you pop, Artie. I'll be along in a moment to see what you've got."

"Really?" Artie asked gleefully.

"Really really." That fellow he used to be, with the big ears and leather jacket, would have been thoroughly disgusted by such a display of domesticity, but then again, he was the one who insisted that 'right here, right now,' was all that mattered, and right here, right now, that soft, grateful smile on Clara's face was all that mattered to him.

"You're very good with him."

"He's a great little chap. Little boys like bugs, and they like pranks. And Artie likes you. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm."

"I know. It's just that sometimes, the two of them can be quite a handful."

He touched her cheek fondly. "And you manage splendidly."

"Except for when I find jars of bugs in my kitchen cupboards."

"Quite understandable. Now, judging from the lack on dinner on the table and car in the driveway, I'm guessing that you're not quite ready to go yet."

"Not quite," Clara apologized.

"I'll tell you what…I'll go and help Artie with his bugs, you finish what you're doing here, and as soon as Mr. Maitland gets home, we're on our way. How's that sound?"

"Perfect. Just perfect."


	3. Chapter 3

"Artie! Doctor! Dinner!" Clara called out the back door.

"Come on, Artie, you get to do the dishes tonight!" Angie added.

"Angie, would you please get the dinner on the table while I go retrieve your brother and the Doctor? Oh, and get that, will you," Clara added, as the phone rang.

She quickly crossed the yard to the old garden shed. "Doctor? Artie? Are you both still in there?"

"Clara, come see!" Artie called excitedly.

Clara shuddered inwardly at the site of all the jars full of different creepy-crawlies lined up on the potting bench. "Well, isn't this er…interesting," she said dubiously.

"Clara," the Doctor said seriously, "I'll have you know that this is quite an impressive collection for a fellow of Artie's age to have amassed."

"I think I've got everything you can find in this neighborhood," Artie informed her proudly.

"Really. I had no idea how many kinds of bugs lived around here." She drew in a deep, steadying breath as she felt a phantom itch begin between her shoulder blades just from watching the various small creatures crawling around inside their jars. "Well, anyway, your dinner is ready. Go on inside and wash your hands. With hot water and **_lots _**of soap." Clara smiled fondly as her young charge ran off back to the house.

"Care you join us, Doctor? I'm afraid George isn't home yet. Doctor?"

"Clara," he replied slowly, looking up from one of the jars he'd been studying. "There's something here that shouldn't be."

"What, you mean like one of those Oriental beetle things they mention on the news occasionally?'

"No. Like something from another planet."

Clara bit her lip in consternation. "Is it…could we have brought it back somehow? Like, stuck to our shoes or something?"

"No," the Doctor reassured her. "The TARDIS has strict decontamination protocols. No hitchhikers allowed."

She sighed softly, relieved of the sudden rapid stream of visions of intergalactic critters taking up residence in her clothes or worse, her _hair_. "Then, how?"

"Oh, any number of ways really. Could have hitched a lift on a meteorite or asteroid that crashed to Earth, one of your own space shuttles, or any of the myriad visitors that wander around all the time that you lot never notice."

"How could we not notice aliens walking around?" she asked quizzically.

He merely raised an eyebrow.

"Riiiight. OK then…is it a good alien, or a bad alien?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm not sure yet," the Doctor told her gravely.

"Doctor, Artie's been spending alot of time with these things," Clara reminded him.

"Yes, he has, with no ill effects."

"So far."

"Clara, alien doesn't necessarily mean bad, you know."

She winced, irritated with herself for unintentionally offering insult. "I know."

The Doctor gently tipped up her chin. "I won't let anything happen to Artie. I promise."

Clara instantly manufactured a smile for him.

"Now, he's found all of these right here in the neighborhood?"

"That's what he said," Clara confirmed.

"I'll need to have a look 'round and see where they came from, how many there are, and so forth." He stood, pocketed his sonic, and straightened his bowtie, all of which Clara knew to be preparation for exploration and action.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Doctor, why don't you come in and have dinner with us? Ask him yourself? Unless you really enjoy the idea of crawling all over this entire neighborhood on your hands and knees." Clara quirked an eyebrow at him and he smiled.

"Clever girl. Right then, let's go ask our aspiring entomologist exactly where he found these."

* * *

"Clara, Dad called to say he'll be working late tonight," Angie reported. She smirked as Clara and the Doctor exchanged frustrated glances.

Clara frowned, thinking quickly. George's absence made things at once easier and more difficult. Easier, because they wouldn't have to be so careful of what was said; harder, because now they were trapped with the kids for the evening, with no clue how dangerous things might get.


	5. Chapter 5

Angie wrinkled her nose in disgust as Artie and the Doctor continued their discussion of bugs at the dinner table. "This is really gross stuff to talk about while we're eating," she complained. "Is that an alien thing, or just a guy thing?"

"Angie!" Clara admonished.

"Science is not a 'guy thing,' Angie," the Doctor informed her. "Just think of Marie Curie, and Sally Ride, and Hila Tacorien -"

"Who?" Angie demanded.

"Oops. Sorry. Hila Tacorien won't actually be born for a couple of centuries. One of the very first human time travelers. Clara and I met her."

"But, how can someone not even born yet be one of the very first human time travelers? Clara's a human time traveler, and she's here right now," Artie asked innocently.

"Clever lad," the Doctor replied affectionately. "All right, then. Hila is one of the first humans to actively develop her own _form_ of time travel."

Artie smiled at the Doctor's vindication of his logic, and Angie rolled her eyes.

As for the Doctor, he suddenly found himself suddenly and inexplicably _**happy**_. The domesticity of eating dinner in a kitchen on Earth with two kids should have been making his eyeballs itch, but he was surprisingly content. He had a mystery to solve, a wonderful companion to share it with, and a young mind eager to absorb all the information he cared to share. Oh, and one sulky teenager, but still…

"I still think bugs are gross," said sulky teenager interjected. "Those big black and yellow things with the antennae look like little tiny outer space aliens."

"Those big black and yellow things with the antennae are perfectly normal specimens of _Megarhyssa_. It's the ones that look like plain old regular grasshoppers that might be little tiny outer space aliens," the Doctor informed her.

"Bugs from outer space?" Angie scoffed.

Artie frowned in concentration. "But, if they're from outer space, how do you know they're just bugs? Couldn't they be tiny little people from outer space?"

"Yes, Artie, they could, in fact, be tiny little people from outer space," the Doctor replied.

"You're mental!"

"Angie! Apologize, right now," Clara scolded.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"So, how do we find out what kind of aliens they are?" Artie asked curiously.

"Well, you could start by showing me where you found them." 


	6. Chapter 6

After dinner, the Doctor gathered a few supplies from Artie's makeshift lab and they set off in search of the mystery bugs.

"So, there are really tiny little aliens the size of bugs?" Angie demanded. "And they fly around in spaceships?"

"Yes, there are, and yes, they do," the Doctor replied with infuriating calmness. "You just have to keep your eyes open, and notice what's going on around you. I had an adventure with an Isolus during the last Olympics. Tiny thing, the size of a luna moth, and it made an entire stadium full of people disappear. Well, it did until Ro - er, my friend and I, got them all back again."

"The news said that was just a publicity stunt. Special effects," Artie said, slightly confused.

The Doctor whirled suddenly and tapped Artie on the nose with his index finger. "The news says a lot of things, Artie, but I think by now you've seen a thing or two yourself. You want to learn to trust your own senses and make your own conclusions. That's what science is all about!"

"So, if that Isolus thing was a little alien, how'd it get here?" Angie demanded.

"In a little spaceship, about the size of a gull's egg."

"What happened to it?" Artie asked.

"My friend and I, we found its pod and sent it on its way back to space."

"And you didn't…I dunno…punish it, or anything?" Angie wanted to know.

"No! Of course not! It was just a child that got lost and wanted to go home. How could I punish someone for that?"

"Maybe your friend could help us," Artie suggested innocently. "The one who helped you with the Isolus?"

The Doctor went utterly still, and Clara saw a flash of unbearable pain cross his features.

"I'm afraid that's…not possible," he answered slowly.

"So," Clara interjected into the awful silence that followed, "you were saying that there are also outer space insects?"

The Doctor flashed her a grateful look, then cleared his throat roughly. "Right you are. Remember a couple of years back, when all the bees were disappearing? Well, some of the bees, at any rate?"

Clara nodded encouragingly.

"Those were Migrant Bees from Melissa Majoria, and they sensed that something terrible was about to happen to the Earth, so they headed home."

"I remember that," Clara said softly.

"So do I," the Doctor replied, with an echo of old pain in his voice.

Clara reached out and took his hand, and they followed after the kids.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Artie didn't mean -"

"It's fine, Clara, really," he assured her in a falsely hearty voice.

Clara stroked his arm lightly with her free hand. "If you ever…you know…"

"I do know," he assured her with a fond smile.

Clara smiled back at him, then stretched up on her toes to lightly kiss his cheek. The Doctor gathered her into a gentle embrace, only to be interrupted a brief moment later by Artie's exuberant shout.

"We'd better go see what they've got into," Clara said sheepishly.

The Doctor brushed his thumb lightly over her cheekbone, then grabbed her hand and set off in the direction of Artie's voice.

* * *

"Over here!" Artie called excitedly.

"Come here, Artie," Clara said warily. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder to hold him close beside her. "You too, Angie," she added, grasping her other charge by the sleeve.

The Doctor dropped to his knees to enthusiastically investigate, scanning the small creatures with his sonic. He jumped back, startled, when a small bolt of energy shot out and struck his fingers.

"Ow!" he yelled, stuffing the offended digits into his mouth.

"Grasshoppers do not shoot little energy bolts," Angie stated emphatically.

"No, they don't," the Doctor agreed cheerfully.

Clara recognized that tone, and knew that he was now fully and happily engrossed in his investigation.

"Come on then, little fellows…where are you from?" he muttered.

"Can they talk?" Angie asked, curious in spite of herself.

"Everything can talk, Angie…it's just a matter of knowing how to listen."

The Doctor scrunched his lanky frame down closer to the ground, straining to hear the tiny creatures. "Now then, who are you? And where are you from?" A pause. "Really? I had no idea!"

"I can't hear a thing," Angie scoffed. "I think he's mental!"

"Angie!" Clara scolded.

"I can hear lots of things that you can't Angie. Superior biology, you understand. Much more acute auditory processing than a human," the Doctor explained smugly. "Now then, Artie…nip along to your lab and fetch the other jar, would you?"

"Is that safe, Doctor?" Clara asked quickly.

"Of course…wouldn't send Artie if it wasn't. You see, what happened is that the ones Artie caught are just kids. These are -"

"The parents?" Clara guessed.

"Indeed. Quite harmless, actually."

"They shoot little lightening bolts," Angie protested.

"Only because they thought we'd hurt their children. Quite a normal reaction. Oi!" he protested as another bolt zapped his hand.

Clara cautiously drew Angie back a few paces.

"Now you stop that! We're fetching them for you, right now. He's just a curious little boy; he meant no harm, I promise."

"Is he really talking to them?" Angie stage-whispered.

"Yes," Clara replied, her eyes never leaving the Doctor.

"How?"

"The TARDIS translates for him."

"That, and the fact that I speak more languages than you can possibly comprehend," the Doctor informed her in a normal speaking tone that made it obvious that he'd heard every word.

"Modest, too," Angie said, rolling her eyes.

Clara nudged her in the ribs.

"Here it is, Doctor!" Artie shouted, running up to them with a jar clutched tightly in his hand.

"Good lad! Give it here!" The Doctor opened the jar, releasing the little not-grasshoppers. "We really are sorry," he said softly. "I've a ship. I'd be happy to take you home, or anywhere at all, for that matter." He stared intently at the small creatures for a moment. "Oh…I see. Yes, of course."

"Doctor, what is it?" Clara asked worriedly. She had both arms wrapped around the kids to keep them close by her side.

"They just stopped here long enough to give birth. Now that they've got their youngsters back, they'll be off."

"In a little spaceship?" Artie asked eagerly.

"Watch," the Doctor told him, stepping back to stand with Clara and the children. He wrapped one arm around Clara, his other hand resting on Artie's shoulder, and was again overcome by the feeling of contentment that washed through him.

"Look!" cried Angie, with unabashed wonder.

A translucent, sparkling sphere, looking for all the world like a glittered soap bubble lifted up from the grass and drifted up to the night sky.

"Are they going home?" Artie wanted to know.

"They don't really have a home; they drift on the stellar winds, only seeking a planet when it's time for them to give birth."

"I didn't mean to scare them."

"They understand. I explained things to them," the Doctor assured him.

Artie bit his lip. "I guess…maybe I should let all the others go, too."

"There's nothing wrong with proper scientific observation, Artie. Once you've made your notes, then yes, let them get on about their business, but don't ever stop being curious about your world."

They continued to watch the shining sphere until it floated up out of their sight.

* * *

Clara was emptying the dishwasher, and the Doctor was sitting at the table, patiently explaining a math problem to Angie when they finally heard George Maitland's car pull in.

"I am so sorry," he apologized. "Corporate is coming tomorrow and everything had to be set for our presentation. Artie gone up yet?"

"Just a while ago," Clara told him. "There's a plate for you in the microwave. Just zap it for ninety seconds."

"Thank you, Clara. I don't know what we'd ever do without you. And Doctor, I'm sorry to have ruined your evening. Perhaps you could still catch a late cinema or something?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," the Doctor assured him, as he helped Clara into her jacket.

* * *

"You were great with the kids," Clara said, as they strolled arm in arm down the path towards the TARDIS.

"And why shouldn't I be?" the Doctor wanted to know.

Clara opened her mouth, then pressed her lips firmly together.

"It's OK to ask," he said, with a sidewise glance.

"And would you answer?" she asked, a bit breathlessly.

"Maybe."

When she finally did speak, it wasn't to voice her original question. "You're like them aren't you? No home…just…adrift on the stellar winds."

"Perhaps. But I do have something to anchor me to this world."

"What's that?"

"You, Clara."

And that was answer enough, she decided, smiling softly as she stared into his fathomless green eyes.


End file.
